


sink or swim

by beatricethecat



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fix-It, Post-Season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6351073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatricethecat/pseuds/beatricethecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This little fix-it fic was inspired by lonely-night’s <a href="http://lonely-night.tumblr.com/post/139429963880/helena-is-dying">gif-set</a> on Tumblr, where Myka visits Helena in the hospital (post season 5) and declares her love. The text below the gifs reads “Helena is dying” and it was a punch in the gut that wouldn’t leave me alone. I wrote this fic in response as a hopeful way forward.</p><p>Myka struggles to convince Helena her life is worth fighting for as she finds Helena in the hospital, up against a wall health-wise, left with only one risky proposition to save her. Helena fights the prospect, but Myka perseveres. Love prevails in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Helena is dying](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/184753) by lonely-night. 



> Rating it "M" because there's a lot of talk about dying. Nothing super graphic, but certainly not cheerful.
> 
> First eight or so lines + the setting are taken from lonely-night's gif-set, then (for better or worse) I take it from there. I think it will be around six short chapters though I'm leaving it open for now.
> 
> And I'll say this upfront, H.G. doesn't die. That may be a spoiler but I think it's important to know in light of certain recent TV events. Also things will get worse before they get better. But rest assured, this is a fix-it fic, which to me means B&W end game; together…eventually. Also, I imagine it’s a style thing, but I’m trying to consciously keep this piece dialog driven with backstory sprinkled lightly in between + heavy on the Myka POV. I’ve never watched season 5 and deconstructing Pyka has never on my to-do list, but I guess it’s happening anyway. (The next thing on my to-do list was a weird little season 4 comedy of sorts. This truely came out of nowhere....)

\----------------

“Myka! I’m so happy you’re here.” Helena's entire face lights up at the sight of Myka entering her hospital room.

Myka finds Helena sitting up in bed with an oxygen tube strapped to her nose, clothed in a polka dotted white hospital gown. She smiles bashfully and averts her eyes at Helena's cheerful greeting.

“You look lovely, as always," Helena adds.

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner," Myka admits apologetically.

“I understand. You’ve been preoccupied with Warehouse business and Peter…I guess…"

“Uh, yeah, the Warehouse has been busy recently. Pete and I broke up awhile ago. We’re still friends,” Myka awkwardly blurts. "Actually, what I really want to say is…”

She glances down, then up, meeting Helena's inquisitive gaze.

“Helena, I-I love you. I hope it’s not too late for me to say."

Helena lowers her eyes as her lips strain to hold back an overly-enthusiastic grin.

“It’s never too late," she says cordially. "Thank you."

Myka takes a small step forward and clenches her hands to steady herself. She came here to speak her mind, but now that Helena's in front of her, she feels like her whole body's shaking from the inside.

“I knew you were sick with some mysterious immune thing, but dyin—” She shuts her eyes and breathes a few deep breaths to control emotions before continuing. “Can't Dr. Calder fix this?"

“It seems I’m an oddity in any century,” Helena says lightly, hoping to diffuse the sudden gravity of the conversation. “After numerous tests, it’s been determined my 150 years on this earth have caught up with me all at once. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to be done."

“There must be an artifact that can heal you, o-or something to make you young again? Claudia could look into it,” Myka pleads. She glowers worriedly at Helena.

“Would you want to be kept alive by an artifact?” Helena snaps, her tone no longer light.

Myka folds her arms over her chest and shifts her weight to her left leg, hunkering down for lengthy, disheartening debate.

“I might, depending on the circumstances.”

“As I recall, your Steven was less than pleased when that very scenario was practiced upon him,” Helena points out.

“That’s different,” Myka argues. Her arms drop dramatically to her sides and the muscles in her neck tighten. "Claudia acted without his consent. You have a choice.”

“And I choose not to rely on an artifact to remain alive," Helena clarifies. "I’m through wasting time in hopes of cheating death. I’d rather spend what little of it I have left peacefully. Perhaps passing quietly might somehow make amends for a life rife with misdeeds."

“I don't understand how you're so calm about this,” Myka asserts.

“It’s simply my time,” Helena offers quietly, but with finality. Her mouth upturns, forming a reassuring smile while her eyes reach out to soothe Myka.

Myka shakes her head lightly back and forth. “It’s not right,” she says with disbelief. “Not right at all.”

She looks down at her hands and cocks her head, momentarily studying the movement of her thumb brushing over her forefinger.

“I-I don’t want you to go,” she says shakily. "You can’t. We never…” Her words trail off as her eyes pan up to meet Helena’s.

Helena's lips pinch together, their ends quivering slightly before lifting into a muted, sympathetic grin. “One of my deepest regrets is not finding the courage to be with you. Though I must admit, my current circumstances prove my deepest fears were warranted,” She flicks her eyes toward the heart monitor then back to Myka.

Myka’s brows push together. “I don’t understand.”

“Imagine we were romantically involved when my illness set in. And then I die. Your life would be torn apart."

“But it will be anyway—"

“Not to the same degree. You shouldn’t have to go through that again, not after Sam. This way, you’ll mourn me and recall our times together fondly, but eventually move on.”

Myka clenches her jaw as her eyes turn hard, thinking it's a low blow to bring Sam into this. “How can you say that with a straight face?”

“You, out of everyone, understand the intimate familiarity I harbor with the catastrophic consequences caused by grief due to the loss of a loved one."

Helena's pained glare pierces Myka to the core. Suddenly, their standoff in Yellowstone flashes before her eyes, and her knees go weak at the intensity of the memory. She squeezes her eyes shut and forces the thought out of her mind, thinking she knows this angle all too well and isn't going to let Helena push her away.

She stares openly at Helena while deciding her next move. Glancing around the room, she locates a chair, and pulls it next to the bed. She sits and takes hold of Helena’s hand, pulling it toward her, placing light strokes with her thumb across the back of Helena’s palm.

“I can’t imagine a world without you,” she says softly, reverently. She feels the tension in Helena’s hand lessen and knows she made the right move.

“You’ve lived far longer in it than I. And remember, it’s you who redeemed me. Please take comfort in that," Helena says reassuringly.

“How can I take comfort in anything when you’re dying?” Myka replies, a slight wobble surfacing in her voice. She tightens her grip on Helena’s hand and lowers head.

Helena pulls herself into sitting position and tips Myka’s chin up to look her in the eye.

“You’re crying,” Helena says worriedly.

“I can't help it,” Myka sadly admits. She sniffs once as she gazes at Helena through softhearted, glassy eyes.

Helena wipes a tear from Myka's cheek with her thumb. “Would you stay with me for a little while."

“A-as long as you need,” Myka stammers. She attempts a smile but the corners of her lips only manage to rise half way.

Helena allows her fingers to thread gingerly through Myka’s hair, entering near her ear, then combing down to her shoulder. She captures a singular curl between her thumb and forefinger and stretches it taut, then watches it spring back to its natural shape upon release.

“Your hair’s grown quite long, hasn’t it?” Helena says in a weak attempt to start a conversation.

Myka huffs out a single laugh so strongly her chest convulses. She lifts her free hand to cover her mouth and stares incredulously at Helena, thinking it’s completely absurd to be discussing appearances right now.

“Myka, I—” Helena starts, then falters, her lips straining to stay neutral as she formulates her words. “I care for you, so very much...much more than I imagined myself capable in this modern world. You are aware of that, are you not?”

“I-I’d always hoped, but I never knew for sure,” Myka says with the utmost sincerity. Her eyes brighten slightly, and she laces her fingers through Helena’s.

“I’ve always loved you, Myka. I’m sorry to not have professed that earlier.”

“I love you, too,” Myka echoes, deciding the point bears repeating. At first, her heart swells, feeling appeased her love has been requited but shrinks as the uncertainty of their future muscles its way forward and anxiety creeps in.

Helena lies back and closes her eyes. A content grin flickers across her face as her body slowly sinks into the bed.

Myka brings Helena's hand up to her lips and holds it there momentarily, drinking in the warmth of Helena’s skin touching her own. She slides the hand to the side, and nuzzles it into her cheek, all the while assessing Helena’s state of consciousness through heavy lidded eyes.

“I’ll let you rest,” she says tenderly and begins to rise.

Helena clutches Myka's hand tightly. “Stay. Please."

The unguarded desperation in Helena's voice cuts Myka to the bone. She lowers herself onto the chair and moves closer to the bed.

“Rest,” she advises softly. “I’ll be here."

Myka watches Helena's face slacken and feels her hand relax. Helena drifts off moments later. Myka stays by her side until Dr. Calder enters the room.

“Can we talk?” Myka whispers to Dr. Calder as she checks Helena’s vital signs.

“Outside,” Dr. Calder replies.

Myka carefully releases Helena's hand and exits the room. Dr. Calder follows and closes the door behind her.

Myka dives right in. “We can fix this. She’s just being stubborn, right?”

“We’ve looked into every option, but found nothing promising without serious side effects," Dr. Calder explains with gentle, apologetic smile.

“Not even a healing artifact? O-or something from Warehouse 2?"

“Old age is not a wound. It’s a natural occurrence. And unfortunately, I believe you're familiar with the after-effects of an anti-aging artifact."

Myka’s chest tightens as she recalls her near death experience suffering the effects of Man Ray’s Camera. “I felt so weak could barely breathe. Is that what’s happening to her? How long does she have?” Panic washes over her as she imagines Helena’s physical state deteriorating that rapidly.

“Two weeks. Maybe a month. It’s hard to tell. There are no other debronzing cases to base this on."

“No,” Myka grunts. Her eyes widen and her mouth hangs open as the gravity of the situation hits her full force. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I’d have come sooner."

“It was her wish," Dr. Calder explains. She places a comforting hand on Myka’s shoulder.

“Why?”

“Until we knew for certain, she didn’t want you to worry. She said she’d already put you through enough."

Myka feels her stomach roll at the thought of Helena thinking she was sparing her feelings. She casts her eyes downward.

Dr. Calder squeezes Myka’s shoulder, and then lets go. She takes a small step back and examines Myka with concern.

“There is one option, but it’s complicated. Only Mrs. Frederic can set it in motion, and even then only with Helena’s explicit consent. There’s no guarantee it will work."

“Does Helena know?” Myka asks excitedly.

"Yes. But Helena turned down her offer,” Dr. Calder discloses, in a calm, even tone.

“Why would she do that?” Myka blurts aggressively. Her eyes tighten, then slacken as she notes Dr. Calder’s startled expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell."

“Why don’t we sit and I'll tell you what I know. Maybe you can change her mind."

“Anything. I’ll do anything.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka and Helena spend some quality time together and circumstances lead to heavy topics being discussed right away.

“Hey!" Myka's greets cheerfully as she enters Helena’s room the following morning.

Helena looks up from her book. "You're still here?" she asks in disbelief.

“Yeah," Myka answers assuredly. "You were pretty knocked out last night, so Vanessa told me to go back to the hotel and get some rest. Didn’t they tell you I’d be back?"

“They did."

"Then why the surprise?"

"I imagined you'd have come to your senses after a good nights sleep and left immediately.”

“Guess not. Just as stupid as yesterday,” Myka teases. Her lips rise on one side, forming the brightest of lopsided smirks.

Helena offers a smile in return that charms Myka to her core.

"Vanessa said we could go for a walk if you're feeling up to it. What do you think?"

“That'd be lovely,” Helena warmly replies. "Though I might have to change into something more appropriate.” She glances at her hospital gown.

“Probably, yeah. I'll get the nurse."

Myka leaves the room and the nurse enters. Helena emerges fifteen minutes later looking dapper as ever, sporting a cane.

"A bit wobbly these days, you see,” Helena explains as she notices Myka's eyes lingering on the accessory.

Myka promptly strides to Helena’s side and offers her arm, thinking the cane suits Helena, but the necessity of it is a little unnerving.

Helena accepts Myka’s gesture, and the two set off down the hall.

As they walk, Myka notes a shakiness in Helena’s step and thinks degeneration must already be setting into her bones. Always lithe and agile, she can only imagine how helpless Helena must feel right now.

They exit the building and follow a path that leads into the park. Helena slows to a stop to take in the scenery. “What a lovely day,” she says lightheartedly.

Helena looks up at the sky and Myka's heart skips a beat; her mind flashing back to that fateful day in the woods when Pete nearly destroyed the coin. Suddenly she realizes here she is again, surrendering to Helena’s wishes, watching her die right in front of her and the prospect of it all is terrifying. She shakes off the feeling as fast as she can and reminds herself that to change Helena’s will, she needs to stay upbeat and not fall victim to her sacrificial agenda.

“When’s the last time you’ve been outside?"

Helena thinks for a moment. “I can’t recall. I dare say; time’s meant little to me these days."

Myka squeezes the crook of Helena's elbow with her own and beckons her forward. The pair ambles lazily down a path that directs them through a semi-wild, wooded area.

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s pretty amazing the hospital's hidden in Golden Gate Park,” Myka declares.

“As I’m sure you know, it houses those unable to live properly in society due to the effects of artifacts. While occasionally a cure is found, most live out their remaining years here,” Helena clarifies.

Halfway up an inclined path, Helena slows to a crawl and Myka steers her toward a bench. Helena carefully lowers herself down and Myka assists, placing one hand on her back for balance. Once satisfied Helena is settled, Myka parks next to her. Helena leans her cane by the armrest and reclines, easing into the seat, quietly studying the area.

“There’s something primordial about eucalyptus trees, don’t you think?" Helena muses. "As if at any moment, a woolly mammoth might come tottering out of those trees.” She nods towards some dense foliage.

Myka smirks and side-eyes Helena, then lists to the side, letting her arm lean lightly against Helena’s bicep.

“The whole of the Pacific Northwest feels impossibly prehistoric to me, with its towering sequoias and jagged peaks, each outliving us by centuries,” Helena explains. "And its ocean; timeless, infinite, lethal…it’s beauty blinding us, luring us in, but once immersed, plunging us straight into its frigid depths, its fierce undertow pulling us under.”

Myka finds Helena’s sudden morose tone worrying and decides to say something light to keep the conversation positive. “So you’ve travelled a lot on the West Coast?” She clasps Helena’s hand, hoping the connection will buoy her spirits.

“I did, yes. Often. For work. And Giselle owned a bungalow by the sea."

Myka's grip tenses and she breathes in a deep, controlled breath, fending off the sharp surge of bitterness at the mention of Giselle’s name. Exhaling slowly, she decides holding a grudge seems petty in light of Helena's illness, and reminds herself only openness and honesty will move things forward.

“Tell me about her. What’s she like?"

Helena turns Myka’s hand over and tilts her head while tracing her thumb over the lines in Myka’s palm.

“Smart. Pretty. Kind," she replies with a melancholic warmth in her voice. ”Far better than I deserved."

“H-how long were you two together?” Myka asks nervously. She casts her eyes down and attempts to slip her hand out of Helena’s but Helena tightens her grip.

“Not very long."

“I’m sorry."

“Don’t be. It would never have worked."

“Why?”

“Because my heart belongs to you.” Helena squeezes Myka’s hand then leans to the side, laying her head gently on Myka's shoulder. Myka slumps down and adjusts her posture to accommodate Helena, the intimacy of Helena’s gesture filling her heart with hope. She slides an arm behind Helena's back and wraps her fingers around Helena's upper arm, pulling her close. Helena's body slackens, melding comfortably into Myka’s. She closes her eyes.

Myka instinctively lifts a hand and threads her fingers into Helena’s hair, studying it lovingly as she lightly combs through. While it retains its slick gloss, a few grey strands stand out from the dark and she decides its texture feels coarser than she remembers. She wonders if the grey is new, or if it's been there for awhile, but decides it’s probably best not to ask right now.

For several charged minutes, the pair sits in silence, exchanging an invisible yet intense bond.

Helena eventually breaks the trance. “Why did you and Pete split?”

Myka stills her hand midway through a stroke. Her fingers rest limply on Helena’s scalp while she formulates a response.

Helena speaks before Myka replies. "He’s a good man. I’m certain he loves you very much."

“He is,” Myka admits. "A-and he does. I love him a lot, but not in the way he needs someone to love him.” She tucks a lock of hair behind Helena’s ear, then drops her hand to her lap.

“What do you mean?"

“We weren't drawn to each other; there was no spark. I never felt for him what I feel for you,” Myka confides.

“You mustn't confuse desire with the longevity of love,” Helena chides. She lifts her head up and angles her eyes to meet Myka's.

“I’m not. Pete and I… there were circumstances. We were kind of thrown together,” Myka explains.

“Circumstances?”

“We almost lost the Warehouse again, a couple of times,” Myka says factually.

“Typical,” Helena quips. She nuzzles her cheek further into Myka’s shoulder.

“A-and I got sick. The doctors thought it might be cancer. Ovarian cancer." Myka’s tone darkens. “After that, I kind of freaked out. But Pete was there for me, by my side, the whole time. And he was…well, he’s a good man, like you said."

“I’m so sorry,” Helena says softly, her words filled with genuine remorse. She tries to pull away, but Myka tenses her arm, keeping her close.

“We talked a lot about how isolated we felt as agents and our hopes and fears for the future,” Myka frankly relays. "He’d get so excited talking about kids and marriage…his enthusiasm was kind of infectious. The future he wanted seemed nicer than anything I could imagine for myself.” Her lips form a faint but warm grin as her mind travels back.

“When we found out it wasn’t cancer, I felt completely lost. I had no idea what I wanted my own future to be,” she says gravely. Her grin fades.

“I guess the seed was planted when we met these other agents who were a couple. And then you called, and I found out about Giselle…” Myka’s tone quiets.

“ _That_ was unforgivable.”

“It was an accident.”

“The very sound of your voice grounds me, connects me to this world. I was greedy. I wanted more…more of you, more of your time,” Helena concedes. "Then I mucked it all up by fumbling the other call.” She deflates in Myka’s arms.

Myka’s chest tightens at the memory of that day and all the things she wanted to say but didn’t. Realizing it’s probably now or never, she decides to lay bare her feelings from that time.

“I’d hoped after Nate you’d come back, but you didn’t."

Helena shakes her head. “I grappled with the thought but decided I couldn’t show up on your doorstep such a frightful mess. After we parted in Boone, I knew I had to stop running. But I needed time to truly find myself."

“But instead you found Giselle,” Myka grumbles accusingly.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” Helena mumbles. She slides off of Myka’s shoulder and sits up, leaving an inch between their arms. "Giselle and I split soon after my blundered call, by the way."

Myka narrows her eyes. “I didn’t know."

“The fact seemed rather insignificant after your swift admission of dating Pete during our last call.”

“I was angry," Myka says in apology, but with a hard edge. She lowers her head and clenches her hands.

Helena tips Myka's chin up and turns her head so their eyes meet. “You’re such an extraordinary woman, Myka. My greatest wish has always been for you to find happiness. And if you'd found it with Pete, then so be it."

“So you gave up, just like that?” Myka snaps.

“My illness surfaced soon after our last conversation. It's been present far longer than I care to admit,” Helena says ruefully.

Myka casts her eyes down and nervously fidgets with her hands. “I-I found out a few months ago. I overheard Vanessa on a call…I know I wasn’t supposed to know. I should have come to see you then, but I was hurt you didn't tell me yourself."

“I understand. We hadn’t spoken in months. Why would you burden yourself further with my shortcomings as a human being."

“Because I love you,” Myka counters, her voice filled with an urgent certainty. She beams at Helena with eyes full of pure devotion.

“That’s not enough to put you through all of this, love,” Helena rationalizes. She places a hand on Myka’s thigh.

Myka finds Helena’s gesture comforting but can’t help feeling slighted at Helena's words. No more playing around, she thinks. It’s time to pull out all the stops.

“I know about Mrs. Frederic’s plan. Why did you turn her down?"

Helena’s posture straightens.

“You’re seriously asking?"

“Yeah."

“Because it’s ludicrous."

“It’s not if you think about it."

“It is. It really is. No one would be safe,” Helena elaborates.

“I’d keep you in check. I think you’d be great,” Myka cheerfully bolsters.

“You’re insane. You're both insane. The fact Irene would even suggest it baffles me."

“She wouldn’t have offered unless she thought it might work," Myka argues. "Just humor me, ok? Don’t rule it out."

Helena glowers incredulously. "Lunatic," she quips.

“Martyr," Myka counters. She raises a brow playfully.

They glare at each for several moments before Myka slips her arm around Helena's waist and pulls her close. Helena lowers her head onto Myka's shoulder and gradually relaxes into the loving warmth of Myka's embrace.

“I’ll consider your request,” Helena says faintly and closes her eyes.

Myka rests her cheek on the top of Helena’s head and grins triumphantly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is still on the downswing but will eventually float up, I promise.

Myka lurches upright, startled out of a light sleep by the sensation of vibrations on her thigh. She quickly slides the phone from her pocket but fumbles miserably while silencing it and the item to falls to the floor with a thunk. Doubling over, she sweeps it up while simultaneously attempting to stand. Mid-way through the motion, a wave of dizziness hits her like a brick, and she falls limply back into the chair.

As the phone ceases buzzing, she looks to the side and studies Helena closely, desperately hoping her clumsiness didn't disturb her from her after dinner nap. Seeing no visible movement beyond the gentle rise and fall of Helena's chest, she relaxes back into her seat and checks the caller. She tips her head back, and closes her eyes, sighing in disappointment at the name she sees on the screen, thinking she's too tired to deal with them right now. But the slim chance the call was Warehouse related bothers her, and she knows the longer she waits, the more they'll worry. And the more they worry, the more they'll call; so it's best if she deals with it now.

Slipping stealthily out of the room, she dials the number directly. As it rings through, she treads across the lounge and plops down in a chair near a window.

“What’s up,” she snaps the instant Pete picks up.

“Hello to you, too,” Pete greets, already on the defense.

“Is the Warehouse ok?”

“Yeah,” Pete answers, sounding confused.

Myka waits a few beats for Pete to continue, but he doesn't.

“Do you need something? Cos I’m kind of busy here.”

"I-I just wanted to see if you’re ok.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine—"

“Pete, how many times do I have to—”

Myka breathes in a sharp, deep breath to stave off her knee-jerk response before it starts. She and Pete split amicably months ago, but since learning of H.G.’s illness, he's been mothering her like crazy. Dutifully reminding herself Pete’s calling because he cares and caring isn’t a bad thing, she consciously takes her tone down a notch.

“Look, I know you’re worried about me but we’ve been through this. _Repeatedly._ You promised you’d back off and let me handle things—“

“I know, I know, I know,” Pete mumbles lowly.

Myka quiets and the line hangs silent, fraught with ghosts of heated conversations; their results thought to be mutually understood.

“How is she,” Pete eventually asks, flatly.

“Dying,” Myka quips.

“ _Dying_ -dying or, like, we-can-fix-this-but-she’s-being-stupid dying."

“ _Dying_ -dying. Like, her hair’s turning grey in front of my eyes, dying," Myka says with bite. Pete's flippant tone rubs her the wrong way. "They’ve looked into it. There’s no fix. She’s just lying there, w-withering away…” She trails off.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Pete's tone softens at the sound of Myka choking up. “I-I'll come help. I can be there in like—"

“ _No_. Just…don’t,” Myka asserts. She breathes a few measured breaths to compose herself before continuing. “We've talked about this. You can’t protect me from everything."

“I just wanna help,” Pete says with a whine.

“Stop pushing,” Myka warns sharply. Pete’s placating tone hits her a little too close to the bone. "We’re not together anymore—"

“I know--"

“Do you? Do you _really_? Because sometimes, I don’t think you do," Myka accuses. She's lost her will to hold back right now.

“Oh, believe me, I do. You remind me all the tim—"

“If she dies, I’m not coming back,” Myka blurts. She’s tired of this debate. She needs time away from the Warehouse, and he needs to know she’s not running back to him if this ends badly.

"What?”

"I need time. Time to figure things out—"

“Wait,” Pete interrupts. “Wait juuust a minute. First, you say there’s no fix, but now there’s an ‘if'?"

Myka hesitates, annoyed she let that slip, unsure if she should explain or let it drop.

“Mrs. Frederic has an idea, but it’s a long shot."

“Longshot? Pfffft. Whatevs. I’m in. Let's do it,” Pete offers heavy-handedly.

“H.G. has to agree to it first,” Myka reticently admits.

“Aaand she won’t,” Pete groans.

Myka doesn't answer. She swears she can hear Pete grinding his teeth on the other end of the phone.

"She can’t leave you hanging like that. Not again. Tell her to get her pasty ass in gear—"

“It’s her decision," Myka interjects strongly but halfheartedly, silently agreeing with Pete, wishing she could just force Helena to comply.

The line quiets again. Thoughts of Helena choosing death over life, coupled with Pete’s insistent tone swirl through her mind and she’s abruptly taken back to that fateful day in the woods with the orb.

“Why do you care, anyway? You had no problem letting her die in the woods."

“ _Oh, come on,_ Mykes," Pete cries. “How can you say that? I didn’t want H.G. to die. We had to save the Warehouse and H.G. agreed—"

“But, _I_ didn’t. I didn't agree—”

“Times were desperate, you know?”

“You _both_ hurt me that day. More than you’ll ever know,” Myka nearly shouts; the gut wrenching pain she felt that day resonating clearly in her voice.

“I'm sorry,” Pete repeats, earnestly. "I’m sure she’s sorry, too."

Myka squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose, wondering why she even tries because both of them drive her up the wall. She breathes a deep cleansing breath, thinking she'd like everyone to stop being sorry and just, for once, let her have her way.

“I’ll say it again. If she dies, I’m not coming back."

“B-but you can’t leave. Remember, last time?"

“Of course, I do, but this is totally different,” Myka says as fact. “I'll need time to think; time to myself."

“You won’t," Pete counters, too quickly. “You'll need us, the Warehouse; me. We don’t have to be together or anything; I just don’t want you to be alone."

“That’s not your decision."

“But, Myyykes…”

Myka’s jaw clenches in response to Pete's grating tone. She needs to end this before she loses composure, thinking she just might scream if Pete doesn’t stop inserting himself into the situation.

“I think we’re done here,” she grunts.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push."

“Yeah, you did."

“I-I just hate seeing you sad."

“I’m going to be sad, no matter what. You can’t fix this, ok?” Myka explains bluntly. "I need space. Space _and_ time. I don't know why, but you've never given me that."

The line quiets. Myka has a mental image of Pete rubbing his hand over his face.

“Right. Yeah. Sorry. Just…” Pete trails off. He blows out a weighted breath. “Call me if you need anything, ok?"

“Yep," Myka quips. She's about to hang up when Pete speaks again.

“Mykes?"

"What?"

“I hope you find a way to save her. I really do," Pete says sincerely. “I want you to be happy."

“Thanks,” Myka grunts. She taps “end" and drops the phone on her lap. Everyone wants her to be happy, she thinks, but no one lets her have what she wants. She sighs in defeat stares out the window at the park.

“Is this seat taken?” a voice queries.

Myka startles from her thoughts and swings toward the sound, finding Helena standing next to her, leaning lightly on her cane.

“No,” Myka says absently. She stares at Helena, wide-eyed, as if she sees an apparition.

“Is everything alright?” Helena asks with concern.

“Fine," Myka mumbles unconvincingly.

“Urgent Warehouse business, I presume?"

“No. That was Pete. He’s just worried about me."

“Rightly so, with your former illness and all."

“I’m ok now. Really. I just wish he’d give me more…space…...” Myka's words slow to a stop and her brow wrinkles as she studies Helena’s presence more thoroughly. “How are you here?"

“Originally? By car,” Helena teases.

Myka smirks playfully. “No, I mean, how are you standing here, now? Did you get out of bed by yourself?"

“I did,” Helena answers smugly.

“You should've asked for help. You could get hurt,” Myka chides.

“I’m alright,” Helena assures but wobbles slightly as she stands.

Myka reaches out, nimbly wrapping her fingers around Helena’s wrist to steady her.

“Should we get you back?”

“I’d rather we entertain ourselves out here,” Helena says. She points her cane towards a stack of boxes on a nearby bookshelf.

Myka squints at the boxes, but instantly recognizes their shape.

“So you’re dying to play Parcheesi, before you, um, die?” she says half-jokingly.

Helena raises a brow. “Would you mind?"

“Anything you want,” Myka answers. She smiles fondly at Helena and tightens her grip on her wrist.

She rises and shadows Helena as she limps toward the table, then veers towards the shelves, crouching down to study the available game options.

“Sadly, no Parcheesi, but Monopoly, Scrabble, chess...“ Myka turns to speak directly to Helena and grimaces as she notes the strain on her face as she attempts to lower herself onto the chair.

“Do you need help?" she asks.

“I can manage,” Helena grunts.

Mid-descent, Helena’s elbows begin to quiver, and she pauses to find her balance.

Myka rushes over and slips her hands around Helena’s waist. “Don’t be stubborn. Let me help."

“I’ve never been called that before,” Helena playfully retorts. She lets out a groan of relief as her body slackens while settling into the chair.

Myka glares worriedly, clearly unamused.

“Chess,” Helena quips.

“What?” Myka's already forgotten about their game.

“I’d like to play chess."

“Really?” Myka grimaces. “Don’t you think that's a little, uh, loaded, considering our history?"

“Of course. How thoughtless of me,” Helena replies. She lowers her chin and looks down at the floor.

Myka stares in disbelief, surprised that Helena could forget their debacle at the Regents Sanctum, but after a few moments decides Helena genuinely didn’t mean to be insensitive. She pulls the chess game off the shelf and sets it on the table, then sits across from her.

“Helena, look at me.”

Helena raises her head and meets Myka’s gaze.

“How may times can we do this, watch each other almost die?"

“When I’m the cause, it seems no one’s counting,” Helena says miserably.

“Don’t say that,” Myka urges. She leans forward and reaches toward Helena, laying her hands, palm down, on the table.

“When the world needs saving, the individual is lost," Helena explains clearly.

“What if it’s my world that needs saving? Would you fight to live for that?”

“Myka…” Helena shakes her head.

“I’m serious,” Myka asserts. Her hands clench into fists.

Helena lays her hands over Myka’s and looks her straight in the eye.

“You don’t need saving by anyone, let alone me. You’re a force to be reckoned with all on your own, a powerhouse fighting bravely until the very end."

Myka’s eyes glass over and she withdraws her hands, dragging them slowly back across the table. She's so frazzled from handling Pete earlier; she’s afraid she'll break down in tears if she tries to argue with Helena. And tears won't win this battle. She abruptly busies herself unboxing the game and focuses on setting the pieces correctly on the board, gritting her teeth while swallowing her fears.

“You’ll let me win a game, right?” Her voice cracks mildly, and she sniffs once to clear her nose. "You’re better at this than me."

“You needn't worry. I’m certain you’re more skilled than you’re letting on,” Helena warns lightly, matching Myka's change in tone.

“You think I’m trying to psych you out?” Myka teases.

“Perhaps,” Helena suggests. The corners of her mouth rise gently to form a wry grin. She gazes affectionately at Myka and reclines in her chair then nods at the board.

“Let’s begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Just quick…I’d mentioned before that Pyka was never something I wanted to tackle. I hope this chapter doesn’t seem particularly Pete bashing…I just imagine he’d be very clingy with Myka both because she was sick and because he really does care about her. I feel like he has boundary issues in general and he’d be clingy with any girlfriend. Plus Myka’s trying to figure out how to move forward on her own but it’s difficult with him so close. She does really care about him…I hope that comes through, but she wants to move on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still on the downswing but soon be on the up!

Myka wakes as the bright sun streaming through the windows hits her eyes. Blinking awake, she decides she must have fallen asleep while reading, having picked up Helena’s book after Helena nodded off around nine. The book is now lying on the table and a blanket thrown over her, probably by the nurse. Her body struggles as she sits up, her muscles protesting the awkward sleeping position she conformed to in the chair.

She lets out a huge yawn while stretching, then bends her neck back and forth to work out a kink. While wetting her dry lips, she looks over at Helena and smiles slightly at the sight of her tucked in bed, sleeping peacefully.

Dr. Calder slips soundlessly into the room and begins checking Helena's charts.

"Good morning," she whispers to Myka while scrutinizing various machines and making notations.

“Morning,” Myka replies quietly and joins Dr. Calder by Helena's bedside.

"How is she?" Myka asks. She tilts her head thoughtfully and studies Helena’s resting form, attempting to assess any overnight changes in her health.

Dr. Calder looks at Myka and ticks her head toward the door. Myka nods, and the pair exit.

"Not much change from last night, which is good," Dr. Calder relays.

“I think her hair looks grayer than yesterday," Myka reports.

"That's certainly possible," Dr. Calder answers.

Myka stares for a moment, feeling the neutrality in Dr. Calder's tone must be hiding something more serious.

"She's getting worse faster than you thought, isn’t she," she assumes.

Dr. Calder places a hand on Myka's shoulder. "When I said two weeks, I didn't mean she’d be mobile the entire time. She’ll have good days and bad ones; we’ll have to take it as it comes,” she explains.

"B-but she was fine last night. Ok, not _fine_ but she did ok,” Myka says, trying to sound convincing.

"We honestly have no idea how fast she might deteriorate,” Dr. Calder admits. She pulls Myka aside and lowers her voice. "Have you talked with her about Mrs. Frederic's plan?

Myka huffs out a terse laugh. ”Yeah,” she answers. Her shoulders droop.

"You should mention it again."

"Or, I should knock her over the head and drag her back to the Warehouse."

"Keep trying,” Dr. Calder says. She offers an encouraging smile and pat on the arm.

Myka's lips rise at the ends but fail to form a grin.

“In the meantime, I'll arrange for someone to pick up your luggage and find accommodations for you here."

"Thanks."

Dr. Calder turns to leave but swivels back around.

“I don’t mean to be grim, but keep in mind, she's only going to get worse."

"I understand,” Myka dutifully answers.

"Do you, really?" Dr. Calder's brow furrows.

"I-I think I do," Myka answers, feeling suddenly unsure of herself.

“If I were you, I’d give it some serious thought,” Dr. Calder warns. "I’ll be back later to check on her. Take her out again if she’s feeling up to it. It's good for her to get some air."

Myka nods.

Dr. Calder walks off and exits through the double doors, into the hall.

Myka returns to Helena’s room and hovers near the edge of her bed, mulling over Dr. Calder’s words, studying Helena's present state. Her hair is definitely grayer than yesterday, and though her face is relaxed, faint lines have appeared around her eyes and mouth. The unpleasant memory of her own visage, lined and sagging, flashes forward as she recalls the alien feeling of being young in mind but trapped in a deteriorating body during her bout with rapid aging. Things seem to be moving slower for Helena, but at this rate, she’ll soon arrive at a tipping point where she’ll know exactly how Myka once felt.

She stares fixedly at Helena’s slack face, lamenting on not visiting her sooner, meditating upon the true meaning of “She’s only going to get worse.” If she can’t convince Helena the worth of Mrs. Frederic’s plan, she’ll be forced to watch her wither away and she worries she won’t have the strength to see things through to the end. Breathing in a deep, shaky breath, she decides being here, now, is what matters most. Her priority when Helena wakes will be to bring up the plan again. She hopes Helena may have changed her mind.

Dragging a chair quietly next to Helena’s bed, she sits and takes hold of Helena's hand then lifts it up and presses her lips gently to its back. The feel of Helena's soft, warm skin calms her fears and she bends forward, tilting her head and gently laying her ear on Helena's abdomen. As she listens to the rhythm of Helena’s slow and even breath, her eyes flutter closed, and she soon drifts off into a light sleep.

She’s gently woken by the feel of fingers combing through her hair, languidly pulling her curls taut, then releasing and stroking through again. She lies still for a moment, relishing the pleasurable sensation, allowing the slight arousal in her gut to rise before slowly lifting up to look at Helena.

As their eyes meet, Helena’s face lights up with the brightest smile Myka’s seen since she arrived, accentuating the newly formed creases next to her eyes and mouth.

Myka automatically smiles back, thrilled that Helena can muster such enthusiasm in her current state.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Happy you’re here,” Helena’s gloats. She tugs a lock of Myka’s hair and twists it gently between her thumb and forefinger. “One could lose themselves in your glorious locks. Their feel is as heavenly as I imagined."

The intimacy in Helena's tone causes Myka's arousal to spike, and she’s struck with the overwhelming urge to kiss her. Her eyes flick to Helena’s lips, but she hesitates, thinking a hospital bed isn't the right place for this, and the sudden momentum is lost. She silently promises to revisit the thought later, during their walk, but decides to move on to more mundane topics for now.

“Are you hungry?"

“Ravenous,” Helena proclaims, with a small smirk and a brow raise.

"I-I’ll get us breakfast. And later we can go for a walk if you’re feeling up to it." Myka feels her face warm, clearly flustered by the innuendo in Helena's tone

“That would be lovely."

“I’ll be back,” Myka says and ticks her head toward to the door. She begins to rise but pauses as Helena grabs her hand.

“Don’t be long,” Helena instructs, her voice filled with a tinge of unease.

“I won’t,” Myka answers. She offers a reassuring grin and squeezes Helena’s hand then lays it gently on the bed.

She walks across the room and exits but pops her head back in, deciding she should ask Helena if she has any specific requests.

“Is there anything you—” She stops abruptly at the sight of Helena pinching the bridge of her nose, head tilted forward, eyes closed,

“Are you ok?” she asks while briskly returning to Helena’s side.

Helena angles her eyes up at Myka. “Sudden headache. Perhaps caffeine withdrawal. I’ve become quite addicted to coffee these days.”

“Right. Ok. Coffee,” Myka repeats, a feeling of relief washing over her at the tangible explanation. “I'll get you some, and I’ll send in the nurse."

“Thank you,” Helena says softly and closes her eyes again.

Myka flags down the first nurse she sees as she makes her way to the cafeteria.

\--------------------

Helena perks up after breakfast, but the pair decides to wait until after lunch to attempt a stroll in the park. Helena frequently apologizes for moving slower than yesterday and for requiring Myka’s assistance more often as they walk. About a hundred feet from the compound, Helena is clearly winded, so Myka cautiously steers her to a nearby bench.

Once Helena is settled, Myka sits next to her and slips her arm across her neck, then eases Helena's head onto her shoulder. They sit quietly for quite some time, soaking up each other’s warmth, enjoying the nourishing rays of the sun. Myka combs through Helena’s hair and pulls her close. Helena's body slackens and her breath evens out. She soon nods off.

“They’ll be good days and bad ones,” Myka recalls Dr. Calder saying earlier. She wonders if, at this point, ‘days’ is too broad a term; ‘hours’ might be more accurate. She kisses the top of Helena’s head and lays her cheek there, but her eyes stay open, her mind lost in what ifs.

\----------------

After dinner, they continue their chess game until it’s obvious Helena isn’t able to focus anymore. Myka helps her to the restroom to prepare for bed. Once inside, Helena says she can manage on her own, but just in case, Myka waits outside of the door to offer assistance at the drop of a hat.

Myka begins to worry when fifteen minutes later, Helena has still not emerged. She knocks lightly on the door.

“Is everything ok?"

Helena doesn't respond.

“Helena?”

Still no answer.

"I’m coming in.”

Myka turns the handle and slowly opens the door. She finds Helena leaning on the sink, staring at her image in the mirror, tracing the newly formed lines there. Her clothes lie in a pile on the floor, and her hospital gown hangs open in the back. Myka tries not to stare at Helena’s exposed, shapely posterior.

“So this is what age looks like,” Helena mumbles offhandedly, her eyes staying locked on the mirror.

“I guess,” Myka answers casually.

“It's visual effects are quite pronounced today. And perhaps, physically as well,” Helena speculates. Her arms begin to shake as they prop herself up on the sink.

Myka rushes over to stabilize her. “Let’s get you into bed, ok?” She pulls the gown together and ties it closed, then threads Helena’s arm around her waist and hands her her cane. They cautiously cross the room toward Helena’s bed and Myka nearly picks Helena up while helping her slide on top. Once Helena is safe and sound under the covers, Myka pulls up a chair and sits. She reaches for Helena’s hand, but Helena drags it away.

“You can’t possibly stay for this,” Helena blurts, sounding angered by the evenings events.

“For what?” Myka leans back in her chair and purses her lips, bracing herself for a sudden altercation.

“Me,” Helena grunts. She sweeps a hand down her torso. “Falling apart, like this."

“I’m not going anywhere,” Myka states plainly.

“Then I’ll send you away. I’ll make them send you away,” Helena orders, a sudden desperation creeping into her voice.

Myka grimaces. She grabs Helena hand and laces her fingers through to keep hold of it.

“Have you thought any more about Mrs. Frederic’s plan?"

“I’d destroy everything, if it worked,” Helena explains sharply, sounding as if her words are a known fact.

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re not that person anymore. You’ve grown. You’ve healed,” Myka pleads. She squeezes Helena’s hand.

“How would you know? We haven’t spoken in ages—”

“I can feel it, right now, radiating off of you. You’re ready to confront your fears."

“But I nearly ended the world, ended _you_. And I’ve killed before. In cold blood—"

“Because the life you created was so brutally taken away from you. You wouldn’t have done any of those things if it wasn’t for that—”

“But, I did them, Myka. And I can’t take them back."

“Instead of punishing yourself, why not try to make amends?” Myka offers plainly. She teeters on the edge of her chair and clasps Helena's hand in both of hers. “You’ve seen life, and death, from every angle. In that way you're unique—"

“Unique? I’m pathetic.” Helena grumbles and forcibly looks away. “With that kind of power…how could you know for certain I wouldn’t try to save Christina again."

“You’ve moved past that. I know you have. And if we were together…” Myka pauses. She wets her lips and looks directly at Helena. “If we were together we could have our own."

Helena yanks her hand out of Myka’s and glares at her with hard eyes. “Don’t say such things to mollify me,“ she growls harshly.

“I’m not,” Myka instantly answers, barely flinching at Helena’s angered tone.

“I clearly recall you starting earlier you had no interest in starting a family."

“With Pete. But with you, it’d be different.”

Helena searches Myka’s face for any signs of foul play. “You’re serious,” she admits after a few tense seconds.

“I am,” Myka states firmly. "I told you I loved you, and I don’t say that to just anybody. Didn’t you believe me?"

“I did, but...” Helena casts her eyes down. “I thought perhaps you were being overly dramatic to gain my full attention,” she admits.

Myka’s nostrils flare as she sucks in a deep breath in an attempt to quell her rising annoyance. “You said you loved me back. Did you mean it?"

“Of course, I did,” Helena confesses. “But I thought…I really thought you’d leave after that first day."

“I’m not going anywhere,” Myka repeats sternly.

“Then you’re a fool,” Helena scolds, sounding less than invested in the sentiment.

“I think we covered that already,” Myka replies with a softer tone. Her lips rise on one side, forming a sweet, crooked half-grin.

Helena lets out a weighted sigh while looking directly at Myka. “Were this to work, I can’t imagine we'd be allowed to be together."

“I think you could negotiate anything you’d want."

“I think I’d be groveling for my life."

Myka's lips pinch together. “You’re worth more than that. You have so much experience, you’re kind of perfect. And Claudia would help."

“I will not burden that girl with keeping me in check,” Helena nearly barks.

“But she wants to help."

“She has enough to contend with already."

“Then it looks like you’re stuck with me for the long haul."

Helena huffs out a breath in frustration. “You’re incredibly stubborn,” she informs Myka.

“And you’re not?” Myka quips.

They glare cooly at each other for several moments, but their eyes soon warm.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow. Right now, I think we’re both tired,” Myka suggests.

“You’re not sleeping in the chair again,” Helena orders.

“I’m not. They said they’d bring me a cot if I ask so I can stay here with you,” Myka instructs brightly.

“You should have a proper bed,” Helena fusses.

“What part of ‘I’m not going anywhere’ do you not understand."

“All of it?” Helena quips. Her forehead wrinkles as she bites her bottom lip.

Myka smirks affectionately and snickers once. She cups Helena's cheek and gives her a kiss on the forehead. “Rest, ok? I’ll be right over there, in the chair, if you need me. I’m going read a little before bed."

Myka turns on the reading light next to Helena’s bed and twists it toward the corner then crosses the room and turns off the main light. She tucks herself into the chair and cracks open Helena’s book but before beginning, glances at Helena one last time.

“Goodnight,” she says, flashing a tender grin.

“Goodnight,” Helena replies softly. She holds Myka’s gaze for a few moments, then shifts under the covers and closes her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy to mood change! Almost to the finish line with this one.

The sound of machines beeping out of time rouses Myka from a deep sleep. Nurses soon flood the room and swiftly wheel Helena out.

“What’s wrong?” Myka groggily cries. She quickly rises to follow.

“Not sure. We’re looking into it,” a nurse answers calmly.

“Is she going to be ok?"

Myka trails behind as the procession moves down a hallway.

“Her breathing’s erratic, but she’s conscious."

Myka's eyes meet Helena’s. Her stomach knots at the fear she finds there.

“We’ll let you know when we know something. Wait here for now,” the nurse says, nodding towards a chair while pushing Helena through a set of swinging double doors.

Myka watches Helena recede into the distance, lingering a few moments after the gurney turns a corner. Feeling abruptly overly fatigued, she eyes the chair then sits, realizing it’s literally been minutes since she woke.

Her eyes droop toward the floor, and she crumples in upon herself, her mind questioning whether she can handle the inevitable slew of future emergencies caused by Helena’s failing health. She curses Helena for not coming back after Boone, then curses herself for not pushing harder, thinking if Helena was at the Warehouse, they could have fixed this by now. Wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye, she breathes a deep, cleansing breath and decides it's pointless to dwell on the past. Focus on the now, she tells herself. Take things one day at a time.

Myka startles from her introspective state when the double doors swing open a half an hour later. She immediately rises and follows the procession, noting Dr. Calder is now present, and Helena is wide awake but looking worse for wear.

Once Helena is parked securely in her room, nurses diligently hook her up to various monitors. Myka stares worriedly from a distance, arms folded across her chest. Helena holds her gaze, eyes full of apology.

“What happened?” Myka asks plainly.

“False alarm. I’m alright,” Helena offers in answer.

Myka raises a brow in doubt. She turns to face Dr. Calder.

“What happened."

“It _was_ a false alarm. Her systems are aging unevenly and struggling to find a balance. That's what threw off the monitors and caused her labored breathing."

“Thank you for the clear answer.”

“I’ll be back later to check on her. I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Myka stands, arms still crossed, glowering at Helena as the room empties.

“There’s nothing to be done,” Helena offers innocently.

Myka unfolds her arms, dropping them to her sides dramatically. “Do you know how scared I was? Scared you weren’t coming back?” she barks.

Helena breathes in a deep breath and closes her eyes. Her chin lowers as she exhales; her tough facade fading entirely.

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped,” Myka blurts. She rushes to Helena’s side and kneels next to the bed then takes hold of Helena’s hand and rubs the back against her cheek.

“I’m tired,” Helena mutters weakly, looking down at Myka through weary, watery eyes.

“Of course, you are,” Myka says softly. She stands, slips off her shoes and perches on the edge of the bed. “Can you move over a little?"

Helena shifts to accommodate Myka and Myka climbs onto the bed next to her. Myka turns to lie on her side and slides an arm over Helena's stomach, nimbly hooking a finger through Helena’s thumb. She eases her head onto Helena's shoulder and presses her body gently into the contours of Helena’s form, relishing the warmth she finds there.

“Would you…” Myka starts hesitantly. She nuzzles her cheek into Helena’s shoulder. “Would you at least try Mrs. Frederic's plan? For me? If it doesn’t work, we'll know we’ve done everything we can."

Helena sighs. “I’m afraid I’d cause more problems than I’d solve. There are too many antiquated rules to abide by; I'd never be able, in good faith, to follow them all."

“That's just it!” Myka says excitedly, lifting her head slightly. “You know everything already; a hundred years worth of protocol. Your expertise would help bring the Warehouse into the 21st century."

“But Claudia's already been chosen—"

“Paracelsus forced the Warehouse's hand. Claudia wasn't ready. And anyway, Mrs. F's idea isn't new; she'd been pushing for change since Sykes. When the Warehouse went on auto shut down, the Regents finally began to listen. Her plan makes so much sense; I wish I'd known about it earlier."

Myka bends an elbow and props her head up on her hand. She looks Helena in the eye.

"The population of the world has _tripled_ since Warehouse 12. More artifacts are being born every day, and the Warehouse is straining to contain the ones we have. Even Leena struggled to keep them in check, a-and she was amazing. Since she's been gone, inventory has been a total mess." Myka's voice wavers at the mention of Leena's name.

"Leena had a gift; a gift I do not possess. I can’t fathom how I'd improve the situation."

“You wouldn't be taking her place; you'd work together with Claudia. And with two caretakers and more agents, there'd be more security; something like Sykes could never happen again. Mrs. F even suggested splitting the Warehouse in two. And she agrees Warehouse policies need to be updated to fit with the morals of today. Who better to spearhead that than you?"

"Myka—"

“You were Bronzed. And stuck in a limbo prison while your body played teacher in Wyoming. You're more qualified than anyone to argue for change. Imagine how great it would be if—"

"I can't," Helena cuts Myka off. She lifts a hand and rubs two fingers on her temple in circles while her eyes flutter closed. “I can't imagine anything right now.”

Myka frowns deeply; incensed Helena won’t listen to reason. She glares at Helena, but upon noting her physical pain, decides to let it go for now.

“Ok. But please, think about what I’ve said.”

She lowers her head onto Helena's shoulder and pulls her close. Helena leans into Myka, her body slackening and breath evening out as she slowly drifts off.

Myka tries to her best to relax but tears up as thoughts of morning events flood her consciousness. Reminding herself there's still time to change Helena's mind, she nestles her nose into the crook of Helena's neck and eventually falls into a light sleep.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Myka groggily blinks awake and finds Helena staring absently across the room. Helena turns to meet Myka's gaze and Myka instinctively stretches up, pressing her lips softly to Helena's, increasing the pressure as she feels Helena pressing back. She tentatively lifts a hand, then cups Helena’s jaw, urging her closer, wanting her to know the feel of her touch.

“Yowsa!” a voice yelps from across the room.

Myka side eyes the intruder but keeps her lips locked on Helena's. She breaks the kiss when she sees who it is.

“Claudia? How long have you..."

“Long enough,” Claudia quips, donning a smarmy grin.

Myka narrows her eyes.

Claudia throws up her hands.

“Not my call, interrupting your little make-out sesh. I just kinda ‘poofed,' then was here, in that creepy Mrs. F kind of way."

“Why?" Myka rolls onto her back and props herself up on the wall behind the bed.

“Lover girl needs to come back, pronto," Claudia explains. She points with her eyes to Helena.

“But she won't agree to the plan," Myka says disparagingly.

“She did. Just a minute ago," Claudia reveals. Her grin widens. "Now I know why."

Myka looks at Helena incredulously. Helena answers with a bashful smile. Myka's attention swings back to Claudia.

“If I didn't know, how could you?" Myka questions.

Claudia snickers. "Disturbance in the force or time-space continuum, I guess? Mrs. F _freaked_ the minute it happened. You should have seen her face."

Myka turns toward Helena. “You’ll do it? You’ll really do it?"

“I’ll try. No guarantees." Helena flashes a humble grin.

A radiant, thankful smile lights up Myka’s entire face.

“You look like hell, H.G," Claudia gibes.

"She looks great for 150," Myka gushes. She threads her fingers through Helena's hair and kisses her in celebration.

Claudia averts her eyes. “I-I’ll get Vanessa."

\----

It's decided Helena shouldn't fly, as the change in air pressure might place undo strain on her increasingly frail body. A van is outfitted with a bed for the trip, and Myka, Claudia, and Dr. Calder all agree to go along. If they take turns driving, they'll make it to the Warehouse in a little over 24 hours.

As their trip begins, Myka stations herself by Helena’s side and studies her present state. Helena's hair is completely silver-grey and her skin looser than usual but not sagging due to gravity not yet having time to take hold. She can help wondering, if this all works out, if the Warehouse will make Helena young again, or if she’ll stay the age she's presenting now. Either way is ok with her as long as Helena's healthy, because truthfully, she's as handsome as ever. In fact, she's secretly pleased to have a chance to see Helena in her old age because if she does become a caretaker, she may never age again.

The journey is long but uneventful save for one standout instance. At a rest stop, Helena insists she's well enough to walk from the van to the shop unassisted. While crossing the parking lot, her cane hits a hole in the pavement, and she tumbles promptly to the ground.

A gas station attendant rushes over first, quickly scooping her up and handing back her cane. Claudia arrives second and tries to link her arm through Helena's, but Helena swats her away. After finding her balance, Helena graciously thanks the attendant then continues forward, solo, at a snails pace. Myka scurries to join her, but keeps her distance, making sure not to assist unless prompted.

“Feisty grandma," the attendant mutters to Claudia as he watches Helena cross the lot.

“You have no idea,” Claudia grumbles, then trots over to catch up.

\-----

After too many hours on the road, exhaustion takes over and everyone naps except Vanessa, who is stationed behind the wheel. As the van approaches the Warehouse, Helena abruptly sits up.

“I can feel it,” she mumbles into the air.

Myka quickly rouses and lurches from her slumped position to steady Helena.

“Me, too,” Claudia quips from the front seat. “Good stuff, huh? That means the Warehouse is happy to see you."

“We’ll see how long that lasts," Helena grumbles.

“Are you ok?” Myka asks. She grips Helena's shoulders, but lets go as she realizes Helena can sit up on her own.

“I am,” Helena says brightly. She studies her hands intently, clenching them into fists then releasing them repeatedly. She meets Myka’s gaze with excitement in her eyes.

Myka's lips form a warm, crooked smile.

“Drive around back,” Claudia advises Vanessa.

“Does the Warehouse have a back?” Myka asks no one in particular.

“Pull over, here,” Claudia directs.

The vehicle comes to a stop, and both Claudia and Vanessa jump out. They circle around and open the back doors to the van.

“How are you feeling Helena?" Dr. Calder asks.

“Rather rejuvenated," Helena says with clear disbelief.

Myka studies Helena closely and swears her hair looks darker than it was when they left California.

"You ready grandma? Mrs. F is waiting for us inside,” Claudia says. She extends a hand.

Helena looks at Myka, then back at Claudia. “Could we have a moment to ourselves?"

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Claudia answers, retracting her hand and holding it up. "Meet us over there when you're ready." She waves to the side.

Once Claudia and Dr. Calder have moved out of visual range, Myka speaks up.

“Are you really feeling—“

Helena’s lips crash into Myka's before she can finish, her fingers tangling in fistfuls of curls. Her hands move swiftly to Myka's shoulders, and she pulls her closer, urgently pressing their bodies together.

Myka feels woozy as the entirety of Helena’s newfound energy surges through her like a shot. As their lips part, she smiles and leans her forehead on Helena's, wondering if this is a Helena-for-now experience or Helena-as-she's-always-been. Either way, the kiss was amazing, and she hopes there's more to come.

“I’ll be back," Helena says gallantly, her eyes full of sincerity as they angle up to meet Myka's.

"You better," Myka scolds, sounding both playful and stern at the same time.

Helena kisses Myka again, long and hard, her lips filled with hope.

Myka cups Helena's cheek as their lips part. "I'll be waiting,” she says earnestly.

Helena places her hand over Myka's and turns her head to the side, sliding her lips across Myka's palm. Eyes glued to Myka's, she presses a kiss to its center, then lowers the hand and squeezes it tightly. She slides off the bed but keeps hold of Myka's hand until the distance between them is too great.

Myka's chest tightens as Helena exits the van, suddenly feeling uncomfortable about letting Helena out of her sight. She knows she'll be with Claudia, Mrs. Frederic, and Dr. Calder, but the truth is she has no idea how this might pan out. Reminding herself to stay positive, she flops down in the nearest seat and hopes for the best.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Everything fixed!!

And so, the waiting begins.

When a week passes with no word from Helena, Myka corners Claudia and presses for information. Claudia cuts her off with a cryptic, "she's processing,” to which Myka spouts a list of profanity laden worries unlike anything Claudia’s heard come out her mouth.

“I really don’t know jack,” Claudia yelps, halting Myka’s rant. She takes a step back and eyes Myka apologetically.

“Sorry,” Myka grunts, her nostrils flaring as she attempts to control her unhinged state. “I’m a little on edge.”

“I get that vibe,” Claudia replies. “But dude, you gotta chill. She’s in good hands."

“You’re right,” Myka admits. “Thanks for reminding me."

To make matters worse, Warehouse activity has been at an all-time low, and the gang finds themselves restlessly milling about, tasked with inventory and paperwork. Myka’s been giving Pete the cold shoulder all week, and Pete's been giving her space, just like she asked, but her standoffishness has created a chill in the air, smothering the usual jovial tone at the B&B.

Abigail offers her services, hoping to help clear the air between the two, but a slew of pings arrives before their first session, postponing any mediated resolution for the moment.

Myka and Pete are told they are going to Texas, which doesn’t sit well with either of them. They individually plead their cases to Artie as to why they shouldn’t be assigned together, but Artie waves a dismissive hand, stating there's nothing to be done. He orders them to work it out en route and leaves the room.

Myka grimaces deeply at Pete and crosses her arms over her chest, thoroughly annoyed at the situation. Pete shrugs and gives her his “I guess we’re stuck with each other” face. She narrows her eyes in his direction but decides he's right; they are, indeed, stuck. And Artie, she thinks, is also right; personal issues shouldn’t effect work circumstances. She huffs a frustrated breath and storms off to pack.

They speak little as they drive to the airport and check in at departures. They pass through security efficiently and avoid each other's nervous glances as they walk to their gate. Their pace slows as they reach their destination and Myka swings toward Pete, deciding she can't bear the tension anymore. Pete simultaneously swings toward her, and they blurt out words in unison.

“I’m sorry that I…”

Both hesitate, then start again.

“Myka—"

“Pete—"

“Myka—"

“ _Peete_ , listen. I’m sorry I got so angry at you. I know you care a lot and only want the best for me. But when we broke up, I thought you understood."

“I do, I do, I do,” Pete repeats while waving his hands wildly in truce. "It’s just...I didn’t see it so much the first time, you being in love with her and all, back when the Regents took her away. And then you left, and I was lost without you. When said you’d leave again, I freaked...I can’t lose you again, Mykes. No matter what, I know I need you as my friend."

“So if H.G. comes back, you’d be ok with us being together?” Myka narrows her eyes defensively.

Pete sucks in a breath through clenched teeth and rubs the back of his neck. “It's gonna take some getting used to, but I want you to be happy, and if she makes you happy, I’m down with that. I’m just worried they're not gonna let you...” He smirks suggestively and makes a lewd gesture with his hands.

“ _Peete!_ ” Myka barks and smacks him on the arm, hard.

“Ow!” Pete yelps. He scowls playfully and rubs circles over the spot with his hand. “If I were you, that’d be my first question."

“She’s working on it. In fact, she wants to make lots of things better for all of us. And with Claudia’s help, I think they can modernize Warehouse policies."

“Whoa, Mykes. That’s a tall order. Even Mrs. F had beef with the Regents, and there's all kinds of crazy cryptic stuff..." Pete trails off, his brow wrinkling worriedly.

“What if you could be an agent and have a family? Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Wouldn’t you fight for that? H.G. knows better than any of us what that means. She's fighting for that, for all of us."

“Uh, but…don’t you think that’s kinda sore subject with lady cucko—"

Myka scowls indignantly, stopping Pete short.

“Sorry. Old habits.” Pete shrugs. “I mean, wouldn't she wanna bring her kid back?"

“I think she’s put Christina to rest. And I’m sure the Warehouse has some terms she’ll need to meet," Myka explains.  
“Plus, I have some ideas to keep her in check.” Her mouth quirks up into a confident smirk.

Pete nods but still seems unsettled.

Myka lets out a sigh of defeat.

“Look, Pete, I’ll always need you. You’re my best friend. We’ll work through this, together."

Pete smiles radiantly and throws his arms around Myka. Myka returns the hug and pats him lightly on the back.

An announcement sounds, stating their flight is boarding, and Pete loosens his hold. As he pulls back, Myka cups his jaw and wipes a tear from his cheek with her thumb.

"You'll tell me about all the sex stuff, right?” Pete jokes. He flashes a cheeky smirk, but his eyes remain glassy.

"Not a chance, mister," Myka asserts and slaps him lightly on the cheek.

Pete pouts comically, thrusting out his bottom lip.

Myka pushes him towards the gangway and the pair board the plane.

\------

The minute they disembark, Myka drags Pete to the side and calls Claudia to check in.

“Jeez, Mykes. It’s only been a few hours."

"I'm worried something will happen when I'm not there."

"The Warehouse can be a jerk sometimes, but it's not gonna off her while you're gone."

“O-Off her?” Myka’s eyes swing toward Pete, filled with alarm. Pete grimaces and shakes his head in confusion.

“It’s a figure of speech. You gotta lighten up—"

“It wasn't funny."

“Guess not. Anyway, she's fine—"

"You've seen her?" Myka’s face lights up. She smiles at Pete and Pete smiles back supportively.

"Yeah."

"Then what's taking so long?" Myka glares at Pete and angrily waves a hand. Pete smiles apologetically.

"They're butting heads."

“Who?"

“H.G. and the Warehouse."

"About what?" Myka narrows her eyes at Pete. Pete shrugs.

"You."

“Me?" Myka eyes turn pleading. Pete flashes a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah. You know, you two doin' your _thaang,_ ” Claudia gibes.

Myka’s face deadpans, and she looks blankly across the terminal toward the adjacent gate. Pete places a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she swats him away.

“There's other stuff, too. She front-loaded her demands, cos she's ballsy like that," Claudia states.

“True,” Myka admits. She smiles crookedly at the thought and glances at Pete. Pete raises his brows and huffs out an exasperated breath, tapping his wrist where a watch would be.

“Ok, look. Right now, I'll admit, I'm feeling mostly positive vibes."

“You feel vibes, too?” Myka questions. She grimaces at Pete. Pete smirks smugly.

“Not Pete vibes. Caretaker vibes."

“Right." Myka nods to herself. "You said mostly. Mostly positive vibes?"

“Ignore the mostly. Let’s just leave it at positive."

Pete tugs on Myka’s arm and motions towards the exit.

“I gotta go. But call me the minute—"

“I hear something. I know the drill."

\--------

The snag and bag, of course, takes longer than anticipated due to an escaped cow and an altercation where Myka “accidentally” punches a rancher out cold. Thankfully, Pete smooths over the situation and they walk away unscathed, but as the event winds down, Myka's anxiety over Helena’s absence overrides any feelings of satisfaction she has after a job well done.

Upon arrival at the airport, they learn their flight home has been canceled due to a freak storm. Completely distraught by the news, Myka immediately suggests driving, but Pete argues it'd be quicker to take a red eye in the morning than spend an entire day on the road. Myka eventually agrees, and the pair books themselves into the nearest hotel. They bid each other a weary goodnight in the hall then roll their luggage in opposite directions towards their respective rooms.

As Myka slides her keycard into the slot, she's hit with a feeling of utter exhaustion, and imagines the absurdity of the last few weeks is at fault. Upon entry, she dumps her bag in the foyer then immediately sheds her clothes and jumps in the shower. She stands motionless at first, letting the warm water rush over her body until she feels marginally relaxed, but then tenses when realizes she left her soap and shampoo in her bag. Deciding she's too tired to care, she grabs the complimentary travel sized versions from the sink and makes do with what she has.

She yawns while washing her hair then lingers, hoping the pulsing water and heated steam will calm her mind enough to get a good nights rest. While she dries off, she wonders if Claudia called with any new news, then drops the thought, thinking it best to keep her mind clear and her anxiety at bay.

With one towel wrapped around her hair and another around her body, she steps out of the bathroom and directly toward her luggage in the entryway hall.

“Hello,” a woman’s voice chirps from somewhere in the room.

Myka jumps the sound and spins toward its origin. She immediately recognizes Helena, looking like her old self, lying comfortably on the bed, wearing a silk robe.

"H-how are you...here…” she starts, but trails off, mouth hanging open, eyes going wide. Her grip on her towel loosens, and the fabric slips from her fingers, then the towel cascades effortlessly to the floor. Her hands fly up to cover herself, and she immediately crouches down to recover the item.

“No need to cover up for little old me,” Helena quips. She smiles wolfishly.

Eyes trained on Helena; Myka flashes a flustered smirk while reaffixing the towel. She grips the fabric tightly as she stands.

“So it's over? And you're..."

“Still wrestling with the salient details of my tenure, but the cause for alarm has passed."

"Really?"

"I believe so."

“Wow,” Myka mutters, her eyes beaming equal parts joy and relief. She feels her heart swell the longer she holds Helena's gaze, finding the life in her eyes nearly blinding. And honestly, it's been ages since she's seen her well; she'd forgotten how devastatingly beautiful Helena really is.

After a few moments, she decides she’s been staring too long and realizes she's unsure of what to do or say next.

“How did you get here so fast? Our flight was canceled less than an hour ago."

“Let's leave those details to your imagination,” Helena answers coyly. She slides a plastic card out of her pocket and waves it at Myka. "But in regards to room entry, I acquired this.”

“They gave you my key card without asking?” Myka blurts, sounding annoyed security would be so lax.

“ _Mrs. Bering-Wells_ was given your key card,” Helena explains smugly.

Myka's eyes widen in surprise.

“You see, my darling wife was heartbroken we'd be separated on our anniversary due to her flight being grounded and I couldn't bear the thought of her left here, all alone. By some miracle, I managed to redirect my own travel to intercept. Can you imagine how thrilled she'd be to find me on her doorstep, unannounced?"

“W-w-wife?” Myka stammers.

“ _Darling_ wife,” Helena taunts. She arches a brow.

“And they bought that?"

“As you can imagine, I can be rather persuasive when prompted."

Myka’s sure she is, but is not sure what to think. She tightens her grip on the towel and shifts her weight restlessly to her left leg.

“You must be weary of standing. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

Helena pats a spot next to her on the bed and flashes an almost predatory grin.

Myka swallows nervously as she watches Helena’s hand rise and fall.

“And, you won’t be needing that,” Helena commands, swirling a finger in the direction of Myka’s towel.

Myka looks down at her towel, then up at Helena, then back down at the towel. She steps to the edge of the bed and angles her eyes up, grinning crookedly while releasing her grip.

The towel drops to the floor.

Helena’s grin grows exponentially, forming a smile so bright it lights up the entire room.

Helena hurriedly unties her robe as Myka crawls onto the bed. She leans forward until their lips meet, commencing a night of passion so intense, she swears, at times, she feels their souls intertwining.

When the sun rises, it’s clear; a new era of the Warehouse has been born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay of this final segment, but I got a little lost in making visuals for this [thing](http://beatricethecat2.tumblr.com/tagged/precinct%2013) that's slowly finding a shape over on Tumblr. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, everyone!!


End file.
